It's Just a Theory

"Why she had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say."  Yesterday, the Beatles, 1965

Toward the end of my second year at the Enterprise State Junior College, I was a guest for dinner at at friend's house.   She was not my girlfriend; she was more of a friend-girl.  But I found myself having dinner with her and her parents in their home within walking distance of the college.  I was well into the second of seven years of music school when I would graduate with a master's degree in conducting. I was far enough in to be offended by her father's remark, but then and now I have trouble speaking up to defend myself.

Her father was an engineer, or a doctor, or a lawyer, or a pharmacist.  I forget what. But it was a field of study and practice that is generally respected in society. The conversation about college education had drifted into which majors are the most and least useful.  Her father had no idea about my major and said, "Take music, for example, that is the most useless degree possible, I can't believe that people go to school for that many  years to study music. How hard can it be?"  I just smiled, kept drinking my sweet tea and let it go.

This morning on the radio I heard "Yesterday". Paul McCartney wrote the song, but it is attributed to McCartney-Lennon. McCartney says that the entire melody came to him in a dream. It has been voted as the best pop song of all time by Rolling Stone and the best song of the 20th century by the BBC. The DJ commented on the key that McCartney chose for the song,  the key of F, and then about the  chord structure of the vocals and string quartet accompaniment.  He named a few of the chords by their numerical names. I understood what he was talking about. When most people cross the Golden Gate bridge, they're thinking about where they're going on not about  the bridge itself. When a structural engineer crosses it, he appreciates it on another level. They all cross the Golden Gate Bridge.

My good friend's father had no idea what he was talking about. A few years ago I read "Of all symbol systems,music is the most complex symbol system in the world".  When you consider the thousands of symbol systems in language, science and mathematics, that is quite a claim. Math alone includes the systems of arithmetic, algebra, geometry (plain and solid), trigonometry, calculus, differential equations and more. Considering all of that, I don't know that the statement is correct, but I won't argue with it either. With a multitude of other music classes, I passed six semesters of music theory. Starting with chord inversions on  the first day at ESJC, we were into the "quantum mechanics" of it on the last. But I can tell you that it was as complicated and as beautiful as the music itself.

Without trying to explain many of the particulars,  in all tonal music the melodies and harmonies you hear form chords. Looking at the composition on paper each chord spelled vertically from the bottom of the bass clef to the top of the treble clef  has a numerical name. And for the most part each "passing tone" between those chords has a name. These "non-harmonic tones" (because they don't belong in the chord) include  passing tones, neighboring tones, escape tones, suspensions and several more. Their name depends on whether that note is approaching a chord or leaving a chord and other musical factors. I associate this somehow with quarks in quantum physics. Quarks, exponentially smaller than the atom itself,  include up/down ,charm/strange and top/bottom. In an advanced theory class at Samford  University, I had an exam to name the "passing tones" the professor had circled on a page of a Bach fugue (fugue is for another lesson).  I made  the only A in the class.  Well, it was 100. But who's keeping score? Nobody but me, I'm sure.

So how useful is all this music theory to me today?  About as useful as organic chemistry is to a pharmacist day to day as she is filling an antibiotic  prescription for a urinary tract infection or medicine for the  flu. The chemistry is in the pill, but as far as the pharmacist is concerned, she just needs to fill the prescription correctly  and put a label on the container. This is not to minimize the importance of that. With the names of drugs today, "filling the prescription correctly" is a feat in itself.  It's important that we studied the minutia of our respective fields; it's not all that important that we remember any of it.

So are the symbols of music from a symbol system more complex than organic chemistry? You explain to me a first and second inversion. These inversions from the root chord, the tonic chord, involve a 5/3 chord a 6/3 chord and  a  6/4 chord. Understand that and we'll talk about  which system is most complex.  And we studied that within the first thirty minutes of that first day of theory at ESJC.

So what's my point? My point is that I don't think I was two-timing on my girlfriend. Although my friend-girl did kiss me once.  Honest, I didn't kiss her; she kissed me.  It can happen. She died about ten years ago of kidney failure. I don't remember much of anything about "passing tones" but I remember my friend. And I remember that dinner in 1973 and  what her father said.

"Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. I believe in yesterday." I write that because my junior college girlfriend reads most of this stuff.

Long and Winding Road--An Open Letter to my Seventeen Year-Old Self

"Many times I've been alone
And many times I've cried
Anyway you'll never know
The many ways I've tried
But still they lead me back
To the long winding road
You left me standing here
A long time ago
Don't leave me standing here
Lead me to your door."  Long and Winding Road,  The Beatles 1970

An open letter to the seventeen year-old David Helms from  his sixty-three year old self:

David, I will use "you", "me", "I", "we", "yours", "ours" and "us" interchangeably.  All of the pronouns refer to you and me.  All of you is me and all of me is you. There's no distance or separation between us.  The forty-seven years since 1970  make absolutely no difference. We have shared every single breath. That's approximately a half billion breaths since we were born.

For starters I want to tell you that you're going to make it.  Life is hard for you, I know,  but it's not as hard as you're making it on yourself. . You're not only going to make it, but you're going to do very well. I'm not going to tell you to learn to deal with things better. I know that you're doing the best that you can do. I'm certainly not going to tell you to "lighten up", as so many have told me, because we can no more "lighten up" than we can flap our arms and fly. I understand that "lighten up" just makes any amount of mental agony that much worse.

David, the reason I'm writing this to you tonight is that I was on my way home to Ringgold, Georgia where I live, I heard one of my favorite songs  Long and Winding Road on my radio. You'll hear that song for the first time this afternoon. You'll love it from the start. I'm quite sure about this.  I'm going to tell you something quite amazing. The radio in my car is "satellite radio". The signals come from over 20,000 miles above the earth from four geostationary satellites. It all started with Telstar, that satellite you were so excited about eight years ago and continued with those circling the earth now. But it certainly didn't end there. I can listen to music on the same station without interruption across the whole country twenty-four hours a day.  I heard the Beatles' song on a 70s station !   They only play 70s music all day long. Commercial free!  Come to think of it, your music is on a 70s station as well, isn't it? Only you have commercials and you can't hear it very far out of town. One thing to look forward to is that my car has a surround sound stereo system. You're going to absolutely love that.  No more of that crappy AM radio you listen to in your '50 Chevy.  But I do so miss WLS 89 out of Chicago.  On the road late at night it was magic.  When you graduate from college and get a car with a CD player, don't get rid of all your albums. Vinyl is back and I have no turntable and no albums. Dang. CD player?  Compact Disc. You'll see.

I want to tell you about your concerns about school. You worry that it's  not Christ-like to study things that aren't Bible-related.  You ask yourself often, "Would Jesus study French or American history? Is trigonometry pertinent to the Kingdom of God?  Is there any eternal value in any of it? Shouldn't I only spend my time studying things of eternal value?" You are going to come to understand that your deeply held belief that everything has to be directly related to the Bible  is very misguided and unfortunate.  You are going to understand that the Light of God can shine on almost everything. Read Genesis 1 again David. He said "It's all good!" But for now just know that next year you'll graduate. You won't graduate as high in your class as you were headed, you deserved better, but your academic momentum will at least keep you in the Honor Society.  Mom will be somewhat disappointed, but she'll get over it. She always does. Strange thing about that damned religion of yours that you call Christianity. There's nothing Christian about it. The Pharisees were very proud of themselves, too. Two things are going to happen for you to begin to find your way out. They involve a bowl of turnip greens and a puppy. Think about it.  When Jesus wanted to explain the Kingdom of God, He used a flower, or a fig tree, or a mustard seed. When Jesus wanted to deliver you from your tormented self, He used a bowl of turnip greens and a puppy.  How else was He going to get through to you? It's not like He could use the Bible. You had it memorized.

I want to tell you about your girlfriend.  You're so concerned about whether or not "she's the one." Well she is and  she's not.   She meets someone else in college and so do you. So no, you don't get married. But for now "she's the one". I wish you could get out of your head your obsession with "is she the one God wants me to marry" and just enjoy spending time with her.  That time will be gone all too soon. She  cares about you and  and you care about her. I wish  you could let it go at that. But just so you know, the two of you will remain good friends through the years. And the spouses get to be good friends too. The four of you will get together quite often.  For that you can be very thankful. That all works out about as well as possible.

I want to talk to you about the lead role in the  all-school play you're involved in now.  If I didn't love you so much I would feel a lot of anger toward you for how badly you're messing this up.  Instead I'm going to feel anger toward that awful brand of Christian fundamentalism you've bitten off. And don't blame that on your preacher or your youth director or your church, you came up with it all by yourself. You created it. How did you ever get in your head that it was advisable and sustainable to ask and literally follow "What would Jesus do?" You're asking WWJD before everything?   Every single thing? Are you kidding me?  Do you think the author of In His Steps is doing that? Jesus Himself didn't do that. He just got up in the morning and lived His life for the glory of His Father. That's all he expects you to do. You know when Satan asked Jesus 'If you are the Son of God, then cast yourself down."  The temptation was not "cast yourself down", but "if you are."  So I'm glad you didn't quit the musical the week of the performance. You are to be commended for that. But you're putting your director through hell. What is she supposed to do? I know how badly you wanted to quit, but you didn't. But how I wish you could enjoy it. You are going to live to regret that you didn't. You'll regret that during the curtain calls all three nights, you never cracked a smile. But you'll get over that. too. Unfortunately it will take years, but you'll learn that regret, like guilt, is an absolutely useless emotion.

I want to talk to you about your family. You will remain very close to your brother and your sister. Although your lives will take you in completely different directions, you will see them and spend time with them as often as possible. I talked to both of them today.  You will love Mom and Dad till the day they die.  One of the best decisions you will make in your life will be to spend more time golfing and fishing with Dad. Each of those trips had a number.  They counted down each time to zero. And then they were gone. You then you will spend a lot of time with Mom after Dad is gone and all too soon you'll tell  her goodbye as well. When they're both gone, you'll think about all those years it was the five of us at that table at 102 Glenn Street. You'll sit at that table for three more years.  Try to pay attention. With all the love I can muster,  I am telling you that you need to pay attention. And just because your brother is off at college, your sister is not. All of your church activities are so important to you, but find time to spend with your little sister.  You'll never regret a minute of that. She might, but you won't (smile).

David,  in college you'll meet a girl. You''ll ask that girl to marry you and she will say "yes".  Forty years later you'll still be with that same girl.  You did good David. You did real good.  The two of you will have a son and he will have a daughter. You will love that little girl more than you thought humanly possible. She will live 500 miles away, but you will manage to see her quite often.  Your son has found a beautiful wife.  Their happiness will bring you much happiness. There are times that when you look around you at the life that is yours, you will hardly be able to contain your joy. And why try? !

As much as I enjoy music in the day, there's just something special about music at night. Tonight on Highway 41 listening to Long and Winding Road,  when I  thought about you I thought how I  wish that you could be as happy as I am. How I wish that I could spare you so much grief and pain. All I can do is reach out to you across tens of thousands of miles and many, many years and tell you that I love you, And I really am proud  of you for trying so hard to please God. I know you mean so well. You'll  figure it out. At this point I feel more like your father than yourself.  And as a loving father who wants nothing but the best for you I'm not telling you to lighten up, but I am telling you that you're going to be okay. I'm quite sure about this.

The Party of Lincoln

I’m listening to one of Aaron Copland’s most famous and popular works called Lincoln Portrait.  I was deeply inspired the first time I listened to this music over forty years ago. I am inspired now.

This orchestral work is music composed by Copland with narrations he selected from various documents of President Abraham Lincoln, including The Gettysburg Address.  Throughout the piece the narrator says, "That's what he said. That's what Abe Lincoln said." When you listen you’ll notice that you hear the entire work played through with  only instruments and then the same music is repeated with the narration.  When you’ve listened as many times as I have, you'll be able to sense the narration from the beginning. I can't separate the music from the words of the sixth  president of the United States of America.  My favorite recording, the one I’m listening to now, is the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy with Adlai Stevenson II as narrator.  Stevenson was the Ambassador to the United Nations under President John F. Kennedy.  Lincoln Portrait opened to an mixed reception on May 14, 1942 with the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.  Over the years it has become one of Aaron Copland’s most performed and beloved works. It's is certainly one of my most beloved musical compositions.

My involvement in politics over the years has been limited mostly to voting in local, state and national elections.  Doesn’t that make me a responsible American citizen?  Yes it does. I did call my governor's office several times a few years ago.  According to the media he was on the fence about eliminating smoking in restaurants and other public places in the state of Georgia.  So I called several times to express my opinion that ridding restaurants of second hand smoke would be a really good thing.  The Republican governor was more concerned about the overreach of government and the infringement of business owner's rights than he was discomfort and health issues  from second hand smoke, but he approved the legislation to ban smoking  Did my calls make any difference in his decision?  Something did.

For the first time in my life I've decided to get more involved in government and the legislative process..   So what exactly am I willing to do?  It's like a good friend of mine told me a few weeks ago, "I'm willing to get as politically active as I need to."  For starters I am going to call my U.S. representative  and express my concern about my health care coverage.  I am now insured under the Affordable Health Care Act in spite of a preexisting mental condition.  If President Trump and the GOP eliminate it with no comparable replacement,  I'll be without health insurance. I do not look forward to that possibility. "Obamacare" might not be the best health insurance in the world, but it's a heck of a lot better than none at all, If the GOP does in fact replace my insurance, I can only hope and pray that "Trumpcare" will be at least as good as what I have now.

.

Aaron Copland composed “American music.”  At times it’s "cowboy" and at times it’s "Indian", but if it’s Fanfare for the Common Man or The Red Pony Suite  it always sounds like the wide open plains of the American west. Think of it as the way Lonesome Dove would sound if it were a symphony. To read the words of Abraham Lincoln is to be reminded of what is good and best about our country. It is to be reminded of the power and dignity of the office of the President of the United States. To hear these words of  Abraham Lincoln against this  music is a quintessential  American experience.  “This is what he said. This is what Abe Lincoln said, ‘As I would not be a slave, so I would not be a master. This expresses my idea of democracy. Whatever differs from this, to the extent of the difference, is not a democracy’ “.  Lincoln’s country had somehow, almost miraculously, survived a war against itself.  Just after he had buried 620,000 of his fellow citizens Lincoln  made no mention of “American carnage”, but of American freedom and hope.

I didn't vote for Donald Trump for president.   But I respect the democratic process.  It doesn't matter as far as the election is concerned that Hillary Clinton won the popular vote,Through the electoral college system, which is, in fact, the way we elect our presidents, Trump won the election.  Did he get help from the Russians?  Our intelligence community says there is no doubt about it. Would he have won without that help?  Only God knows. The fact is when the electoral votes were tallied, he won. Then does it matter that Clinton won the popular vote? Time will tell. Last Saturday over two  million people around the world  weighed in on that.

Our country is divided in half,  just like when Abraham Lincoln was president.  There is no reason to think that one side will secede from the Union and take up arms against the other as in 1861. But we are just as fractured as when our country did just that.  Those who voted for Trump  are ecstatic. Those of us that lost are afraid and dejected, I, personally, think we have reason to be.  If the first press conference is any indication, the "White House" agenda is much like the "Trump agenda" during the elections, i.e. saying whatever he wants to about anything that threatens his unquenchable ego, even if it's devoid of facts and truth.   Is this horrible and dangerous habit going to apply to both domestic and international issues for the duration of his term?  When a foreign power criticizes him is he going to tweet insults and threats against them. Some of these nations are armed with nuclear weapons. Shouldn't this concern all of us regardless of who we voted for? Nuclear weapons are non-partisan. 

I wrote my first research paper for my teacher Mr. DiMichelle in the sixth grade at the College Street Elementary School in Enterprise, Alabama.  I chose as my topic, President Abraham Lincoln. I poured myself into that handwritten paper and made an A. I have felt a kinship with the sixteenth president ever since.  I am the party of Lincoln.  This is what he said. This is what Abraham Lincoln said,"Fellow  citizens we cannot escape history.. We of this Congress and this administration, will be remembered in spite of ourselves. No personal significance or insignificance can spare one or another of us. The fiery trial through which we pass, will light us down in  honor or dishonor to the latest generation. We, even we here, hold the power and bear the responsibility."

Aaron Copland's music fills me with great pride and great hope.  Frederick Buechner said, "And now abides faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is hope."  My hope is not dependent on any election. I may be a little down and dejected about one party controlling every branch of government. And not my party. And would Abraham Lincoln be comfortable with this party?  But every single person in Congress and the White House are there because American citizens voted them in.  Every single member of the judiciary was appointed by those elected officials. And, like it or not, will be appointed by those officials.  I not only have to live with that, I have to respect that.  But now I have some calls to make.   And when is that next march? God bless the first amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America. We know that America can bend; now we'll find out if she can break.

Trying to Make Sense of Things

Sight
Taste
Hearing
Touch
Smell


Most of us are born equipped with five traditional senses. They are called "traditional" because we actually have a plethora of other senses. Some of these are the result of the combination of two or more of the traditional senses.  Other senses are very powerful, but can't be explained with the five senses.   How do you describe that sense you have that someone is behind you?.  You have not seen anyone, heard anyone, touched anyone, tasted anyone or smelled anyone,  but you know someone is there. This sense of perception is hidden in the most ancient part of our brain and is vital to our protection and well-being.   How do you explain that sense that a friend is in  trouble and needs your help? When you call you find out why. It's very possible that you have a sense that is unique to you. For years you just assumed it was common because you had no idea it was something only you could do. Why would you have  thought otherwise? These are just a few examples of powerful abilities that cannot be categorized as  traditional senses.

But just the five traditional senses alone are vastly important to our ability to function and to live. It is very common for each of us to be stronger in one or two of these senses and weaker in others. We don't realize this because our preferences are all we've ever known. Whether or not it's weak or strong, each of these traditional senses has its own receptors in our brains.  The brain accepts the impulses from our seeing, tasting, hearing, touching and smelling. The brain then converts these impulses into the information that we use to experience the world around us. Our entire perception of our environment comes through these portals and is unscrambled by our brain.  If we suddenly lost the connection from these senses, our hearts would be beating and we would be breathing, but the universe would cease to exist. "Dead to the world" would be our literal condition. For each one of us the universe is not just "out there"; it's "in  here."

What if you had to give up two of the three senses. Which ones would you choose?  Look over the list very carefully because today is the last day you will have use of all five of these senses.  Starting tomorrow, for the rest of your life, you will only have the three senses that you choose. From then on,the information you use every day will be limited to only those three.

In my friend's case, she didn't make a choice; it was an unfortunate accident.  The accident when she was a young child involved a blow to the head. The trauma robbed her of both her ability to taste and to smell.  I've known her for over a year, but just learned recently about her malady.  After we talked about it a few minutes she let me know that for her it really wasn't that big of a deal.  She said, "It's just something I've learned to live with."   I asked her if she minded me asking  a few questions and she said,"No. That's fine."  I asked her if she had food preferences.  She said, "Yes I do. I prefer food based on texture. Since I can't distinguish one food from another with taste, there are certain foods that feel good in my mouth and other foods that I don't prefer. You like what you like for your reasons and I like what I like for mine."

Regarding smell she said that she knows she's missing a lot, but that she doesn't know what she's missing so it's not a problem.  She said that her inability to smell things has made her the designated person for handling smelly jobs especially related to babies, sick children and sanitation. She smiled and said,  "It has it's advantages".

I asked her if she had any memories at all of taste and smell. And she said, "No. I have none." "Then do people try to describe things to you?"  "Yes, all the time. But since I have no point of reference I really can't understand any comparisons.  But that's okay. As problems go, and everybody has them, I really am not upset by any of it." Besides, how do you explain how a strawberry tastes?  How do you explain how a summer rain smells?

Think about it. In that accident my friend lost two fifths of her primary senses.  That's the same ratio that Helen Keller lived with.  Helen lost her ability to see and to hear from an illness when she was nineteen months old. In Helen's case, she was helped by a loving and talented young teacher.  Although she never gained those two traditional senses, she gained everything else. History records the abundant life she lived and her contributions to mankind. She, too, learned to make the best of what she had and not dwell on what she had lost. In my friend's case, she had no teacher or advisor. She  adjusted and adapted on her own.  Although she had the support of family and friends, there was really nothing for anyone to do for her.

So which two senses did you choose to do without?  Did you even make a choice?  I didn't think so. It is really quite difficult to imagine losing the use of even one of our senses. And quite unthinkable that we could lose two..

I have another friend, blind from birth, who is an extremely talented musician, both a composer and performer. He too does not consider himself to be handicapped by his limitations.  I asked him if there was surgery for him to see would he do it.  He said, "I'm really not sure.  For my entire life I have imagined what things look like. If I could see, I'm afraid that I would be disappointed. There are more ways  to see than with your eyes".

I sense that I have said enough about all this and that I need to wrap it up. Growing up Southern Baptist we concluded every service with an invitation. My invitation to you is, regardless of everything else going on, that you take a few minutes today to celebrate your five traditional senses. Today, all day, notice what you see. Notice what you touch. Notice what you hear. Notice what you taste.  Notice what you smell  And if you've got at least three of the five, you are well on your way to having a good day. If you've got all five, the universe is yours to command. "Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling. Come home. Come home. See on the portals He's waiting and watching. Ye who are weary come home."

"See on  the portals."  I've never thought about that.

One Small Step

State Route 27 between Enterprise and Ozark, Alabama is about eighteen miles.  The road is winding, but is not particularly dangerous at reasonable speeds  The officers at the scene estimated that Jeff was going well over 100 miles per hour when his car left the road and  ended up in a tree. He died at the scene.

What do you call a relationship that was a friendship, a very good friendship but then over time for reasons you don't remember, you just drift apart?  In junior high school we had gotten to be really good friends.  Bicycles were our primary mode of transportation and we kept the roads hot the four miles between our homes. For no particular reason, Jeff spent more time at my house than I did at his, but I was over there a good bit. He didn't have his own guitar so he came over often just to play mine. I busied myself with other things while he practiced with my guitar. Over time he played my guitar much better than I. On another occasion, Jeff was mildly upset with me that he was the one and not me riding his bicycle across town late at night after watching The Birds.

I find it interesting what I do and do not remember about things that happened so long ago. I do remember that there was no friendship incident that caused either one of us to give up, but the end result of what did or didn't happen terminated our relationship.  After a while, we seldom spoke to each other. Although we were in high school together, the "accident" was the first I had thought about him in quite awhile.

In 1966 in eighth grade science, Jeff invited me to participate with him in our assigned project.  He told me that he was building a model of the Saturn V rocket, the "moon rocket", and I asked him if I wanted to help.   I thought he meant he had bought a model to assemble. The only "models" I was familiar with were the plastic automobiles with step-by-step instructions that  I assembled as a kid with airplane glue and model paint. Why would he need help with that? I thought I could do better with something else, so I declined the offer. A few days later I rode to his house to see the work in progress.  He was actually building the rocket to scale from scratch with balsa wood, tissue paper, airplane glue, model paint and other materials.  Although he was just getting started, seeing the drawings and materials scattered around, I asked Jeff if I was too late to join him. He said, "No". When we were finished several weeks later,  the rocket stood about four feet tall. We had not only constructed the rocket, but there was a seam from top to bottom and inside was a model of the interior of each stage of the rocket.  You could see the fuel cells. You could see the  Command Module and the Lunar Excursion Module.  And like a doll house, each of those items were removable for closer inspection.  You could pull them from the rocket and examine what they looked like and how they were constructed. You know--education. As far as I was concerned, we had created a masterpiece. Our teacher who was not, in my opinion,  adequately  impressed with our accomplishment awarded us an A. But she  also gave an A to the student who drew a nice picture  of the Saturn V rocket with magic markers on poster board. We were both good students and cared about the grade, but neither of us built the rocket for just a grade. Both of us had followed Gemini and Mercury and were very personally excited about  the fledgling Apollo Space Program.

The next year on November 9th, NASA launched Apollo 4, the first launch of the Saturn V rocket. The scientists had not fully considered  the power and force of their machine as it shook their  launch control panels and knocked out windows miles away from the launch pad. NASA launched Apollo 11 on July 16, 1969. Four days later, Neil Armstrong stepped from the Lunar Excursion Module and became the fist man to stand on the moon. I knew the purpose of the Command Module and the Lunar Excursion Module. I was deeply and personally invested in the success of the missions.

The Saturn V remains the most powerful production rocket for space travel ever built.

I saw the movie Hidden Figures a few days ago about the women and men of NASA who made manned space flight possible. I was impressed with how many overcame prejudice, Jim Crow restrictions and sexism to offer their valuable contributions to the program.  I shared their excitement when the rocket was airborne and Alan Shepherd became the first American in space and then John Glenn became the first American to orbit the earth. I never got to watch the launch of one of NASA's rockets.  Sitting in my car on Highway 1,  just across from the Kennedy Space Center, I was listening to the launch sequence on my radio.  As the launch ticked down to 20 seconds and counting, my heart was pounding with anticipation and excitement. It's earlier version I had built with my own hands in the living room of my friend's house in Enterprise, Alabama. Now, for the first time, I was about to see it fly. The launch was scrubbed at T-minus 12 seconds. That's as close as I ever got to witnessing a launch. It's probably just as well I missed that launch because I was able to beat the traffic back to Walt Disney World. And by the time I got back, my family was already waiting for me to go home.

As much as I was enjoying the movie, I was also grieving the loss of the Apollo astronauts who died on the launch pad and then the shuttle astronauts who died in space.  But I was also grieving the loss of my friend.  Not just that he had died so tragically and so young, but that our friendship had died so many years before that.  Since then, if a good friendship ends, I at least want to know why. I at least want to remember. I've learned that sometimes love and renewed friendship is just one small step away.  I know I'll never step on the moon, but I try to take that step every day.

NICU Update--So Happy Together

"I can't see me lovin' nobody but you
For all my life
When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue
For all my life."  Happy Together,  The Turtles

In just a few weeks I will be celebrating my first anniversary volunteering in the NICU of a local hospital.  This journey with these newborn babies has been one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. Just this morning I cuddled a little boy while he slept.  The nurses not only don't mind my picking up a sleeping baby from his crib, they encourage it. He woke up only once. He looked up at me, apparently decided he was safe enough, and promptly went back to sleep.  He's the noisiest sleeping baby I've ever cuddled. He amused me  with groans and grunts and sounds like from a squeaky toy.  But the noises didn't bother him and it was all music to me.

There are four main neurotransmitters (hormones) that affect our mood toward joy and happiness. You can  remember them with DOSE--dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin and endorphins.  All of this brain chemistry is vital for our health and well-being, but I only want to mention one,  Oxytocin is known as "the cuddle hormone,"  Our brain produces this chemical when we're physically close to someone. Oxytocin present in the synapses is the reason we want to be physically close in the first place and then our brain produces more when we're actually touching. Women do not have more oxytocin in their brains than men, but because of estrogen the effect of the oxytocin is much greater in women. Women are genetically predispositioned to cuddle their babies. But I can tell you from personal experience that men have an abundance of oxytocin in our brains as well. At least this one does.

Nature did something else quite extraordinary to encourage us to take care of our young.  This phenomena affects much of the animal kingdom of which humans are but a small part. The world-famous mythologist Joseph Campbell introduced me to the concept of engrams. In  his Masks of God series, Volume 1 he discusses engrams. His conclusions, which were based on the observations and research of others as well as his own, indicate that the shape of an animal's head and face affects the parents' behavior. One  of the reasons you are strongly attracted to a baby is because of the shape of his face. This phenomenon continues through his childhood.  We have a much stronger attraction to a puppy than a dog, a kitten than a cat, a bunny than a rabbit. Engrams not only affect humans but affect animals as well.  A combination of its oxytocin and the engram factor is why an animal nurtures its young. This is why an  animal will risk her life to find her cub and bring it back to safety. It's not just that the animals are like us. We are like them.  We are them.

I'm listening to Hans Zimmer's latest album just released last week on Spotify. It's a compilation  of  twelve songs from his most popular movie soundtracks. As I was writing the last paragraph,  music I recognized but had forgotten began playing.  My heart was strangely warmed so I checked to see what I was listening to. It's "The Land" from The Lion King. Mysteriously appropriate.

You may wonder why I would exchange talking about the wonder and beauty of newborn babies for the wonder of our  brains.  There is only so much I can say about what goes on in the NICU, but I can talk forever about the marvel of our gray matter. "I think therefore I am" makes more and more sense to me.

Did you know that human conception involves one lucky sperm out of approximately 250 million  and normally a single egg?  That's amazing. Have you ever wondered how the sperm knows which way to swim? It's really quite extraordinary.   Get this. All those millions of sperm swim together toward warmth.  Yes warmth.  It all begins with warmth.

Cuddle: "Hold close in one's arms as a way of showing love or affection."

Over a year ago I asked a hospital employee, "Do you think the NICU would let me hold those babies?"  She said, "No, there are all sorts of restrictions on who can go in there. They protect those babies fiercely." And that was that. Then I found out about the Cuddler Program. "This morning I cuddled a little boy while he slept."  Some say "the wonder drug" is penicillin. Others say it's aspirin. I say it's oxytocin. I can't think of anything more wonderful than cuddling a newborn baby while he sleeps. "Me and you and you and me. No matter how they toss the dice it had to be. The only one for me is you and you for me,. So happy together."

Who you gonna call?

A few days ago I noticed a huge billboard that I had never seen before.  Then a few days later I saw the same billboard in another location.  The large billboards, in very large letters, simply read-- Jesus.

Both times I saw it I thought "There's no contact information!" I wasn't trying to crack myself up, but that's exactly what I thought.  And then the analysis set in.  "Did I mean that it doesn't tell you how to call for help or it doesn't tell you how to contact Jesus?"  The truth is, before I had time to consider a number for a church or an agency, I actually thought, "It doesn't tell you how to contact Jesus."

In my experience,  contacting Jesus is not difficult.  For that matter, in my opinion, you can't keep from contacting Him. Most Christians call it prayer.  I call it breathing.  Physicists will tell you that you are breathing the same air that George Washington breathed. You are breathing the air that William Shakespeare breathed, and Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse.  You are breathing the air of Adam and Eve. You are breathing the same air that dinosaurs breathed.  You are breathing the air that Jesus breathed. They all inhaled and exhaled oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide just like you do. Very few of the near limitless amount of atoms that make up these elements escape into the atmosphere. That means that these atoms of life are shared and recycled here on earth for as long as the earth exists. The atoms we breathe are circulated as long as the earth exists. Ubiquitous.

If you have ever read 100 words on mindfulness meditation, then you have read about the breath.  Paying attention to your breathing is the central technique to quiet the mind and achieve inner solitude and peace. Besides the obvious fact that breathing keeps us alive, there are very many neurological reasons that simply noticing your breathing has such a profound impact on your psyche. The cumulative effect that counting  the breaths has on the neurotransmitters that power your brain is more profound than the long-term effects of  drug and alcohol abuse.  The short-term may seem more satisfying, but the long-term is deadly.  Another way of looking at this is  to realize that the illegal drugs and alcohol that can  destroy your life were never necessary in the first place. Neither were needed as a way  to find lasting personal  peace. With the exception of prescription drugs to correct biochemical imbalances, everything you  need for finding peace of mind is in your breathing.

Something else that's going on with prayer is what's happening in and around your head.  The trillions upon trillions of atoms in your brain bump into the atoms in your skull. Those atoms bump into the air around you.  Those atoms are flung to kingdom come.  Did you ever wonder why that person you just thought about this morning, who you have not thought about in years, calls you this  afternoon? Or you get a card from them the next week?  It's not metaphysics; it's just physics.   Did you ever wonder why when you asked Jesus for help, it felt like the help was already there? Shouldn't prayer be at least as effective as wifi and 4G? Why should our cellphones have the corner on instant communication? "Yea though I walk through the valley of death I will fear no evil. For though art with me."

In the Christian New Testament, James 5:16 reads, "The effective prayer of a righteous man can  accomplish much." If you need to close your eyes and bow your head to feel connected to God, then by all  means do so.  But I want to suggest that you are already connected. Just start talking. If you don't know what to say then just breathe. The Biblical writer in Romans 8:26 says, "the Spirit helps us with our problems even when we don't know how to pray. The Spirit prays for us with groanings that we cannot even utter."

All over Chattanooga last year were billboards that simply read--Ubiquitous.  There were sixty to be exact. Weeks later Coca-Cola claimed the boards and added some more information. Maybe in a few weeks I'll see that Jesus billboard again and it will read--Jesus, Call me anytime. Operators are standing by.

My Little Brother--January 9,1964- January 17, 1964

"When you initially forgive, it's like letting go of a hot iron. There is initial pain and the scars will show, but you can start living again."  Stephen Richards

For most of my life when people ask me about my siblings, I have answered that I have an older brother and a younger sister.  For the last several years, depending on who is asking and the circumstances, I will add to "an older brother and a younger sister" that "I had a younger brother  who was born when I was ten years old.  He died eight days later."  One reason I seldom add that information is that at that point the person I'm talking to doesn't know what to say.

The truth is I don't know what to say either.  When I was nine years old my mother announced to us that someone else would be joining our family.  This was years and years before the  word "pregnant" could be used in polite company. I remember because her "circle" from church was meeting in our kitchen when  she told me.  She had been talking about an affiliation with The Baptist Children's Home in Troy,  Alabama so for whatever reason I asked her "So you joined that club?" And everybody laughed. They weren't really laughing at me, but it felt like it.

No, she hadn't joined a club, but she was happily and blissfully "with child." Babies were my mother's passion.  Anybody's babies filled her with love and delight. Her own babies she loved even more.

This is where my memory fails me. People comment to me from time to time how much I remember about events forty of fifty years ago.  As a student of the human brain I now know that with traumatic events we can block out most or all of it.  Although I was nine and ten years old, I have very little memory of her pregnancy, my brother's birth and death and the days, weeks, and months that followed. My brother who was twelve and my sister who was four remember very little about it either.

I do remember the excitement the evening Mother went into labor.  My aunt, my mother's sister, came over to stay with us while Mother and Dad went to the Enterprise Hospital. Sometime later the phone rang. My aunt answered the phone, slammed it down, ran into the den and shouted "Something is wrong with the baby!!" She then had us all drop to our knees and pray.

We learned a few days later that James Burt was born spina bifida, born with an  open spine. There has been much advancement in medicine for these babies and the survival rate is much better.  In 1964 the malady was fatal in most cases.  Such was the case with my little brother.  All I remember about the eight days between his birth and death is that my mother tried me to go see him in the hospital. I didn't want to go so I didn't. I try not to live with regret. Sometimes that's very hard to do.

At the graveside service I was sitting with his casket directly in front of me.  The small white casket touched me in  a place that I didn't know existed and I started crying. A well-meaning relative sitting behind me put his hand on my shoulder and whispered, "Think about your mother."   I stopped crying and didn't cry again for my little brother until October of 1991 when I was thirty -eight years old. On  that Sunday morning when I started sobbing, I didn't stop for nearly twenty minutes. Grief has a way of finding us.

The way my father dealt with James Burt's death was we never talked about it.  I do not recall a single conversation we ever had about my little brother's life and death.  He didn't live long enough for it to matter. The way my mother dealt with it affected all of us in very dramatic ways. She tried to talk to me about him from time to time over the years, but I didn't want to talk about it either.

My siblings and I have pieced together our collective memories and have figured out a lot of things about the traumatic events of January of 1964 and the awful days that followed for our mother, but we remember very little.

My mother died on March 1, 2003  The line at the funeral home for people to pay their respects was very long. We stood, listened, held hands and hearts for several hours.  I lost count of the number of women who said something like, "And Mary is up there rocking her baby." Apparently, I'm not the only person she talked to about her son.

When mother had tried to talk to me and  expressed her own regret that I never saw him, she often added, "David, he looked just like you." That's a memory I wish I had. I'll never have that memory, but I can imagine.

In November of 1991, a month after that fateful Sunday morning, after an accident that could have killed me, I had a profoundly powerful dream that was much like a near-death experience.  In real time the experience lasted a couple of hours.  In that dream my deceased family members came to me one by one, hugged me and expressed their love for me.  One of those people was my little brother. He was a  boy of about ten years old,my age when he lived. . Since I was standing he walked up to me and kissed me on the leg. And he did look like me.

So there you have it. Except for some details I've pieced together about  my mother's recovery, you know nearly as much as I do about the life of my little brother, James Burt Helms.

 My father died in 1995. I let him go to his grave without ever bringing up the subject of his son, and his wife.  I have long since forgiven him. In his own way, he dealt with it all the best he knew how. As for that well-meaning relative  at his funeral.  He was, in fact, well-meaning.  I have nothing but love for him because he had nothing but love for my mother. I had nothing but love for my mother also. But at ten  years old, there was only so much I knew how to give.  And frankly, I wasn't too good after that either. I forgive him. I have nothing but love for him too.

January always finds me at an emotional crossroad.  I can go back in pain and regret or I can go forward.  "David, how many siblings do you have."  "I have an older brother and a younger sister. And I had a little brother who lived eight days." And unless he asks something else, I let it go at that. He seldom asks and that's okay too. I'm learning that living in forgiveness is a very good way to live.

Dinosaurs in My Yard

For a number of years I have been aware that birds are descendants of dinosaurs.  What I didn't realize until lately is that birds are actually dinosaurs.  To try to convince you I would have to use terms like paleontologist, phylogeny, maniraptoran, dromaeosaur, theropod, ceolurosaurs, endothermic metabolism and so on. I'll spare you all that.  I must say though that many scientists do not agree that birds descended from dinosaurs so by default do not believe that they are dinosaurs. So understanding that a lot  of very smart people agree that birds are dinosaurs, a lot more smart people do not believe that, you can then decide for yourself based on this or other information. Having done little or no research, I just enjoy the idea that the birds in my back yard are dinosaurs.

Carl Sagan said that "we are all made of starstuff."  Actually, in 1973  he said, "The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff." When I read that over forty years ago I was captivated  and thrilled by that idea. I may not have been rich and famous, but who cares, I came from the stars! At the time I had no concept of how the interior of stars had anything to do with me. Now after years of reading Omni Magazine and many articles and books on the subject, I'm beginning to grasp how it happened. In a nutshell, the pressure and heat of the Big Bang created all the elements in the universe. Over billions and billions of years stars created in  the Big Bang expanded into humongous red giants, collapsed into neutron stars and exploded into supernovae.  In those explosions  entire solar systems were born including this one where we live. As planets were formed, such as Planet Earth,  those metals became a part of the planets' cores and surfaces. When life eventually created us, the stuff of stars was under our feet and in our DNA. So again, even if I don't understand it, I can choose to believe it. I can celebrate it.

I have been feeding wild birds for over 30 years.  I just started again after a break of nearly a year because I had conceded the war to the squirrels. When I start hating on squirrels, inevitably there are those who come to their defense. "Squirrels are God's creatures, too." "Why don't you just feed the squirrels?"  "I enjoy watching the squirrels as much as I enjoy watching the birds." Technically, squirrels are rodents and I consider them to be very smart rats with bushy tails. Rats are God's creatures too, but I don't wan't them in my yard and on my feeder. As a young boy I hunted squirrels with my father's 12 gauge shotgun.  "Hunt" is a relative word since there wasn't much sport to it. It was just a "big bang" and a dead squirrel.  I did give the deceased to a friend who cooked them and ate them. So it wasn't entirely inhumane.

My feeder is one in a series of "squirrel-proof" feeders. The others were "squirrel-proof" for a day or two. This one has been relatively "squirrel-proof" for about four months. The only problem is that it is to some extent "bird-proof" too.  The smaller birds like chickadees, bluebirds and finches have no trouble managing the small cage. But it has become necessary for me to throw generous amounts of feed on the ground for the thrushes, cardinals, blue jays and dove.

One of the most interesting things I read about birds and dinosaurs is that in the order of the animal kingdom, A T-rex shares more DNA with a pelican than it did with a triceratop. I will say though that if evolution ever works backwards, my descendants won't  be feeding the T-rex.  However, I'm quite sure the T-rex will have another opinion about that.

To the Unknown God

"For as I was walking along I saw your many shrines. And one of your altars had this inscription on it: 'To an Unknown God.' This God, whom you worship without knowing, is the one I'm telling you about." The Apostle Paul as recorded in Acts chapter 17. 

"Jesus begins to show us himself and his God. Not a God of war and division, a conquering and spiteful God who demands sacrifice, but a God we can trust—even more surprising, a God who trusts us. From the Lectionary reading for Sunday, January 8, 2017. Matthew 3:13-17, Inward/Outward

Sometimes, like just now, I read something when a thought explodes in my consciousness. It's like a mental Big Bang. And when this happens it comes with many backstories that are attached to it.

I am going to begin with the thought, fill in  with a couple of the backstories and then  conclude with the thought. 

The thought--A huge part of Jesus' struggle was to convince the multitudes, including the religious leaders, that He, as God, was not anything like the god  passed down by word of mouth through the ages and read by the priests in the synagogues. It was this distinction that eventually got Him killed. "If you were God you would  deliver us from this mess. If you were God you wouldn't spend your time with the peasants and the powerless, you would align yourself with the Zealots and do whatever it takes to make our people free of Roman oppression.  God is a God of war and a God of vengeance. You are not God. You are a lying  fraud. You are no friend of the  Jews. You are worthless to us. We need to rid our world of you and continue to wait for God." Jesus began His ministry with not only the multitude but with a multitude of strikes against Him.  How  could He ever convince His people that "that god" was not Him. "That God" was the word of the writers but not the Word of God. 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God. And the Word was God.'  "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one knows the Father who doesn't know Me." 

This "explosion" was somewhat more complicated than this, but you get the idea.

Backstory #1.  The evolution of my theology and my relationship with the "one true God", "the Unknown God" goes through many significant people.  One of the most significant, a man who now lives with his husband north of San Francisco, was at the time a college student at Baylor University. Technically I was his youth director, but early on in our friendship, he became a mentor. His college church was a unique church in Waco, the Seventh and James Baptist Church. He had a special relationship with his actual youth director in that church.  That man was affiliated with a very unique church, The Church of the Savior in Washington, D.C. I, vicariously, through those relationships was deeply affected by the writings, teachings and ministry of that congregation. To this day I am richly affected. This church has an email ministry called Inward/Outward.  I subscribed to and  receive a daily quote. This quote is from a wide and marvelous pool of resources.  Some quotes are only a couple of sentences and others are somewhat longer. The only ones that are "churchy" are the Sunday quotes from the Lectionary. These "Sunday" quotes come to my inbox every Saturday. They are written by Kayla McClurg, the editor.  Over the past fifteen years these quotes have powerfully affected my thinking and my theology.  They have affected my life. 

Backstory #2.  The lectionary is a collection of scripture dating back to the fourth century. The selected scripture is based on and follows the liturgical year. The lectionary is still used by many different denominations to provide source material for  teaching and sermons that are held in common by tens of thousands of  churches and millions of parishioners each Sunday. . Ms. McClurg bases her "Sunday" quote on the selected scripture from the lectionary.

The thought--  First of all try not to judge me that I consider the "one true God" to be the  "the Unknown God".  Taoism teaches that if you can define "the Tao" then it's not "the Tao."   I'll not delve into why I think Taosism has anything to do with this article. I"m just trying to make a point that every major religion struggles with the true identity of God--the Supreme Being, this Higher Power, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Yahweh, Jehovah, Adonai, the baby in a manger, etc., etc., etc. Please consider for those of you who trust a more literal interpretation of the Bible, "the Unknown God" is in the Bible.  That's where I got it in Acts Chapter 17. When Paul was struggling with how to tell them about God,, the Father of Jesus, while pointing at  the idols on Mars Hill he said, "Look!   That statue to 'the Unknown God'  is the God I worship". I'll leave it to you to ponder the fact that he used a physical shrine, an idol, as a prompt to explain God. Weren't people killed for that? I am not the first person to struggle with all of this. The Bible is literally true? Then please explain that story literally. Explain how a criminal offense in the Old Testament is a legitimate prop for truth in the New. Explain that to me and I'll seriously consider your position.

I'll conclude with an answer to my question "How could He ever convince His people that 'that god' was not Him?" In spite of spending His life loving and caring for people, and demonstrating the very nature of God, He didn't convince them. You know the story. The Jewish leaders and the Roman machinery had him put to death. Not just put to death but horribly tortured and brutally murdered. Whereas, He was in the short run unsuccessful in proving the nature of God, He was extremely successful in proving the nature of man. But through people who care about me, like my good friend in San Francisco, I am not only heartened by the true nature of man, but by  the true nature of God..  God may be Unknown, but He is not Unknowable. 

Pique Your Poison: Dealing with Annoyance and Fear (Part 2)

pique: "Feeling irritated or resentful"

Using the analytics that Blogspot provides, I can track about how many people read any particular post.  I figure from 20 to 100 people read what I write and post every few days. Not very many people read Pique Your Poison (Part 1).  I think part of the reason is the title itself. I try to be creative with my titles but I think in this case I was overly so.  Since the post is about dealing with annoyance, I intended "Pique Your Poison" as " pique is your poison."  If you're not familiar with "pique" then this would probably not garner your curiosity.  But you're reading this, so maybe there's hope for more views of this series.

At this point, if you are now curious and have have not done so yet, go back and read Part 1 and pick up the thread here.

(leaving room for you to read Part 1)

As I stated, the main thing I have enjoyed about Buddha's Brain is that it is less about "meditation" and more about the inner workings of the brain.  So guess what? 86 pages in, the book is about Mindfulness Meditation.  And is always the case, the techniques start with the breathing. There is a difference, however, in the author's approach to this exercise.  Hanson addressed the specific parts of the brain that meditation, specifically the breathing, affects. He provides the facts of how various meditation techniques become a joystick of sorts to access and calm specific mental activities. Since I deal with annoyance issues and panic issues, what he tells me is important and extremely useful information.  The most significant thing he has said is that practicing mindfulness for even one minute a day has benefits.  He also told me why I have been resisting it all these years. "For some people reducing anxiety can seem threatening, since lowering their guard makes them feel vulnerable."  That's me. I have found the meditation itself to be painful instead of relaxing. Why would I engage in a time-consuming exercise that makes me feel worse than I already feel?"

But then just like that Hanson dangles a carrot to give me a way into mindfulness and out of my distress. "Notice how the awareness that contains fear itself, is never fearful. Keep separating the fear: settle back into the vast space of awareness through which the fear passes like a cloud."

"The vast space of awareness" is my salvation.  I had never considered that a marvelous place of quiet and peace in my psyche is the part that is watching my various annoyances. At any time I can retreat to that place to rest from my irritation.   This even reminded me of an analogy, Years ago I used to do a lot of caving. The cave I ventured into most often is the Petty John cave about twenty miles from here. To enter the cave one slides through a small hole in the side of a rock into the darkness of the cave. The first time in I had no idea where my feet would land. Even a flashlight didn't show me the bottom.  But I figured they would land somewhere solid. Once in, I found myself in a very large room.  It is probably 30 feet wide and 40 feet tall. It's a big room.  From there my friends and I crawled in many different directions to explore the interior of the cave.  But no matter how far we ventured and how long we were in the cave, I always knew we would end up back in that big room. In the deepest, darkest parts of that cave I found comfort in thinking about  that room.

So from now on, my meditation image will be that room. Imagining that large place will be my "space of awareness."  You might think, "But is a dark hole in the ground a good place to go for quiet and comfort? Is that really helpful?"  But that room is not dark at all. As you crawl back into that room from the dark interior of the cavern, there is an abundance of light pouring through that entrance hole. It doesn't flood the room exactly, but the hole provides plenty of light to show you the way out.

Why has it taken me this long to make this connection?  About 23 years ago I guided a church youth group through that hole into that large room.  There we celebrated communion together. We lit candles and  shared out bread and "wine" in the relative darkness and solitude of that cave. It was a very special moment for all of us.

 I can use that too.

Obviously, the "vast space of awareness" is not a physical place. This space exists nowhere but in my head.  But isn't that the point?  All this annoyance exists nowhere but in my head as well.  It is not in the traffic or the noisy restaurants; it's in me. If I nurture and strengthen this vast and beautiful place inside of me,  then I can retreat there at any time and under any circumstances. I will still prefer that you not slurp your drink during my movie, but that's my problem and not yours.  Pique may be my poison, but awareness is my cure.

Pique Your Poison (Part 1)

Do you ever let things annoy you?  I know I do.   I'm not proud of that, but all along I let people and things get under my skin.

Since I am keenly aware of this tendency in me, I am working very hard to deal with people and circumstances in a better way.  Although, it's not the only thing that I let get next to  me, I am  easily annoyed when I am  inconvenienced on the road. It's not full-blown "road rage"; it's road irritation.

Yesterday morning I was in no particular hurry.  I was on my way to a business appointment, but I had left early and  I had plenty of time.  I was in the left lane of a four-lane highway when I approached a slow-moving car ahead of me.  I had waited a few seconds too late to change lanes so I was stuck in the left lane behind this motorist. And inevitably when someone is  driving ten to  fifteen miles-per-hour under the speed limit, they do other things to further irritate me.  In this case the driver slowed as he approached green lights. Regardless of  a driver's speed, it is perfectly normal and advisable to slow for caution lights and stop at red lights, but this driver driving slowly to begin with was slowing for green lights!  For the record, none of them ever turned red, but  I was seeing red.  I tried to convince myself that it didn't matter. I kept telling myself that I was early for the appointment  But some part of me thought that it did matter. A lot!  Traffic situations like this create in me a type of highway claustrophobia. Although I was in no hurry and no danger, I felt like I was trapped.

I have been a student of the human brain for many years. I am absolutely fascinated with the power and splendor of our brains.  According to Joe Palca and Flora Lichtman in Annoying, the Science of What Bugs Us, annoyances and irritations originate in three specific parts of the brain. The cingulate cortex, hippocampus and the amygdala are the primary centers of annoying feelings.  Their research shows that if somehow these centers were not active, even the person behind you in the movie theater slurping their drink during the most touching scene wouldn't bother you at all.

My problem is that I do, in fact, have a cingulate cortex and apparently a very good one. Loud music in restaurants and even louder music in their restroom.  Daytime television in a waiting room. Small yappy dogs. Unless I'm willing to have brain surgery, then I can continue to be annoyed or I can find a better way. Just knowing about the specific circuitry and  neurotransmitters that control my thinking and feeling, doesn't mean that I know how to manipulate them.

I read a lot. I just finished a book Coming of Age in the Milky Way by Timothy Ferris. Although it was published in 1988, both his descriptions of the macrocosm of the cosmos and the microcosm of  quantum physics was very current and useful.  I am currently reading Buddha's Brain: The Practical Neuroscience of Happiness, Love and Wisdom by Rick Hanson published in 2009.  To my surprise and delight, one of the first chapters could have been written by Timothy Ferris. Hanson writes,  "It is sometimes said that the greatest remaining questions are: What caused the Big Bang? What is the grand unified theory that integrates quantum mechanics and general relativity? And what is the relationship between the the mind and the brain?"

Most books I've read regarding retraining the brain quickly become specific meditation techniques.  I understand the importance of mindfulness and strive to incorporate its many benefits in my life, but I was looking for a more scientific approach to self "brain washing". I haven't been disappointed. Hanson suggests that these four stages of growth are involved in dealing with irritation. 1. You react and complain without realizing why. 2. You realize you're overreacting, but you do it anyway. You just can't help yourself. 3.You feel irritated, but you know there's a better way to deal with it than frustration and anger. 4. You don't react at all and don't even realize there was a problem.

I've graduated from Stage 1, but I vacillate between Stage 2 and 3 depending on the circumstances. I have more work to do to get to Stage 4.  At the end of this chapter the author writes "We've covered a lot of ground and have a lot about the evolutionary origins and neural causes of suffering. Now in the rest of this book let's see how to end it" .

The drivers of northwest Georgia are waiting with bated breath for me to finish reading this book. I'm  looking forward to it myself. It annoys me that it has taken me this long to find it.